Forsaken
by Flash Foreward
Summary: Gary Hobson often finds himself facing choices that teeter on the edge of life and death, and sometimes those choices aren't really choices at all. This time, those choices bring about a lot of questions for Gary, a lot of doubt, and a lot of frustration.


**A/N:** Many thanks to Maryilee for the beta :D

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Early Edition.

**Forsaken**

Gary Hobson sat on the steps to the Church, staring out at the dying sunlight before him. A shiver ran down his spine and he sighed, running a hand over his face and back through his hair, wishing he could blame the chill he felt on the coldness of the day. Instead, he tried to push the feeling to the back of his mind and glanced at his watch, occupying his mind with counting down the minutes until he absolutely had to enter the church.

As he twisted his wrist to check the time, the paper flapped in his hand. He cast a glare at it before watching the second hand make a full turn around the face of the watch, then turned his full attention to the pesky paper. He read over the headline a few times, keeping his eyes on the large text and refusing to look at the pictures that accompanied it.

_Priest and Thee Others Caught in Shootout_

Those had been the words Gary had woken to find. He had opened the door to his apartment, his eyes on the ground as always, and as he'd bent over to retrieve the paper from under the little orange cat's paw his eyes had caught the first word and a picture. Or, half of a picture, anyway, with the way the paper was folded; but it was enough. Just looking at the priest's empty eyes had put him off breakfast.

That alone, of course, had Marissa worried, which was why he'd headed to the church early. Very early. It was the only item in the paper that he needed to attend to that day, and it wasn't supposed to happen for…he checked his watch again…another fifteen minutes.

Gary sighed and tucked the paper into his coat pocket before standing up. He stretched out his legs and glanced up and down the street, wondering where exactly the shooters would be coming from. He sighed at the empty road that stretched out in either direction and turned to the church's looming wooden doors.

He pushed them open and stepped into the dimly lit, cavernous sanctuary. He glanced around at the pews that lined either side and caught sight of two young boys fighting over something in a pew near the confessional. Gary swallowed and turned his gaze to the looming crucifix that adorned the front wall of the church. Watching the children out of the corner of his eye, he slowly walked forwards.

When he reached the pew opposite that of the children, he paused and looked over at them again before sliding in and sitting down. He glanced at the paper once more, studying the picture this time. The faces of the children and a woman, whom the paper had identified as their foster-mother, held closed eyes and almost peaceful expressions. He found some part of him wanting to pray.

His grip on the paper tightened as he stared down at it, sending the soft sound of crinkling paper to echo through the nearly empty church. Gary swallowed and folded the pesky object up, sliding it back into his pocket.

He returned his attention to keeping an eye on the children. He wanted to turn and watch the door, but there was no way he could do that without drawing unwanted attention to himself. Instead, he kept his gaze before him, carefully eyeing the Confessional at the same time. He could see now what they were playing with, a set of Rosary beads, and a small smile crept onto his face.

But the ever present thought of what was to happen in the next few minutes made the smile short lived, and Gary swallowed hard and glanced at his watch to find that fifteen minutes had passed rather quickly.

As if reading his thoughts, the confessional opened and the woman stepped out. She began to usher the boys down the side aisle towards the front door, but Gary was up in a shot, searching for something to say.

"Wait a minute!" She turned her head to glance at him, but she didn't stop moving. Gary tried again as he slowly exited his pew and started towards her, "Don't go that way. They're, uh, repairing the stairs."

"The stairs were fine when we arrived," the woman said, finally coming to a halt and giving Gary a very odd look. Gary tried to find a more reasonable excuse for her to use a different door, but none came to mind. With a huff, the woman continued her journey down the aisle.

Gary continued towards her, squeezing down a pew, but before he could speak again the front doors to the cathedral burst open and two black-masked figures rushed inside, guns in hand. The woman screamed and pulled the boys closer to her as the figures turned to the sound; Gary took advantage of their preoccupation and rushed across the room, leaping over a final pew to reach the woman.

"Don't move," one of the figures shouted in a gruff, obviously masculine voice. Gary placed a hand on the woman's shoulder and tried to step backwards, but she would not move. The boys had pressed themselves against her, burying their faces in her jacket. All Gary could do was stand with them, frozen under the gazes of the two shooters.

"Look, let's not be hasty," Gary said, the shooters stared at him, their guns pointed at the small group of people. Gary swallowed. "What d'yo-"

"Shut up!" the one gunman shouted, brandishing his weapon and cutting Gary short. Silence fell again and as they stood there, watched and watching, the confessional door creaked behind them. Gary resisted every urge to turn and look as the gunmen's attention shifted to the priest Gary knew was behind him. His hand tightened on the woman's shoulder and he leaned close to her ear.

"Come with me," he whispered, easing backwards slowly, his eyes always on the gunmen. The woman, the children, and Gary slowly eased backwards even as the priest walked slowly past them, his hands held up and a solemn expression on his face.

"Don't come any closer!" the other gunman shouted, this one's voice high and feminine. Gary swallowed and glanced at the priest who did not stop moving.

"C'mon," Gary muttered to him, but the man simply spared him a wave, urging the lookers on towards a door near the pulpit. Gary sidled out from behind the woman and pushed her gently towards the door. He waited until they were through before turning back to the Priest, who had begun to speak to the gunmen.

"Welcome to the House of God," he said in calm voice. "What troubles you, my Children?"

"Shut it!" the first gunman shouted, looking from the Priest to Gary, who had begun to inch towards the center aisle where the Priest stood. "And stop moving!"

Gary came to a halt inches away from the priest. He waited as the gunmen whispered back and forth to each other. One gestured to the door and they both looked back, Gary kept a careful watch on them and reached out a hand for the priest's shoulder. The man did not look at Gary as he whispered a response to an unasked question.

"Go," he said. "I'll stall them long enough for you and the children to get away."

"I'm not leaving you," Gary whispered as the one of the gunmen returned his attention to the two men and the other ran through the door. The priest stepped forward, the gunman stepped back.

"Go," the priest whispered again before turning all attention to the gunmen. "What troubles you?" he asked. Gary moved to step forward as well, to talk some reason into the priest, but as he moved the paper fell from his pocket. He bent down to retrieve it and stopped at the sound of a gun cocking.

"Drop it," the gunman said, Gary looked up at him and raised his hands above his head, glancing down at the headline as he stood back up.

_Priest Killed in Church Holdup_

And, below that, a smaller headline, almost a subtitle, read: _Woman and Two Children Found Dead a Block Away, Police Confirm Connection._

Gary glanced from the gunman to the priest, resisting the urge to kick the paper in frustration. The gunman had begun to pace, glancing at his watch every once in awhile. Gary stepped forward so that he was level with the priest, his hands still above his head, and spoke.

"You don't have to do this," he said. The gunman stopped moving and turned his weapon once again to Gary.

"You don't even know what we're gonna do," he snapped. "So don't go sayin' I don't have to." Gary looked down at the paper then quickly back at the gunman, who had moved and was now standing only a few feet away.

"Is it money?" Gary posed, slowly lowering his hand. "Do, uh, do you need money?" The gunman laughed and as the noise pealed through the church the priest leaned towards Gary and spoke in an insistent whisper.

"Get out of here," he said, Gary shook his head.

"Stop talkin'!" the gunman said almost absentmindedly as he once again began to pace.

"Not without you," Gary whispered, glancing at the paper again. He tilted his wrist slightly, checking the time against the paper. Even if he could leave the church, he would be too late. In that split second, the gunman wheeled around and pointed his gun at them.

"I said shut-up!" he shouted, pulling the trigger. Gary pulled at the priest's arm, but the man was already falling, his hands on his chest. Gary knelt beside him, his knee brushing the paper. He pulled it towards him, rereading the headlines. They hadn't changed.

"Where'd she go?" Gary asked, standing, the paper clutched tightly in his hand. The gunman stared down at the priest's body. "Where did she go?" he demanded again. The man glanced at him, his eyes filled with fear, and pointed at the door.

Gary could already hear the sirens as he rushed past the man and out the door, he caught sight of a police car pulling up to the curb and he glanced down the street. A block away, a black-clad figure was being helped into a police car.

Gary wasn't one to pray. He wasn't big on religion, even with the unexplained paper landing on his doorstep every morning. He left praying, he left God, up to Marissa. Yet, he found himself standing across the street from that church every free minute he had, staring at the unchanged, peaceful façade that hid the tragedy that had occurred not a few days before.

And he prayed.


End file.
